


Sync

by CommonNonsense



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:16:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7850086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonNonsense/pseuds/CommonNonsense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo is a world-class sniper, but there are simply some shots he cannot make alone. McCree's Deadeye, however, could fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sync

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this art](http://element1414.tumblr.com/post/147544768882/you-heard-about-hanzos-dragonstrike-through) on Tumblr!
> 
> Also a companion piece to [ Trust, ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542130)which you don't have to read to get this one.

_ “Hanzo, McCree, change of plans. Divert and double-back, now.” _

Winston’s order comes over the comm just as they are finishing scouting. Hanzo stands on a rooftop with McCree below--he sees the cowboy stop to listen. 

“What’s up?” McCree replies. “Thought everythin’ was all-clear.”

Winston’s voice is unusually grim. “ _ There was a pocket of Talon agents we missed doing the sweep. Lúcio and Mei are cornered and their comms are out. _ ”

“Shit,” McCree swears. Hanzo silently repeats the thought. “We’ll be right on it. Where are they?”

Winston narrates directions and Hanzo takes off, sprinting across the rooftops with his bow in hand. McCree is quick to follow, his hand flying to Peacekeeper as he goes. 

Winston takes them through a maze of alleyways, narrow and winding. Hanzo leaps from roof to roof, his specialized boots letting him leap across wide gaps and gripping as he lands. Below, McCree keeps pace in the alleys themselves, spurs jangling as he dodges debris and rounds sharp corners. 

“We will not make it at this pace,” Hanzo hisses into the comm between exerted breaths. “Is there no other means for them to escape?”

“ _ I’ve tried, but I can’t get through to them,” _ Winston replies. “ _ Their GPS tags show them running straight into a dead-end plaza. They’ll be surrounded as soon as they hit it. Hurry up!” _

“Goin’ as fast as we can there, big guy,” McCree huffs. 

_ “You should be able to see them from there. Hanzo, if you can take a shot--” _

Hanzo skids to a halt and spins, eyes darting for a glimpse of their missing comrades. Finally, he spots them in the distance, a hundred feet away, as they run into a cul-de-sac. They are surrounded on all sides by tall buildings, their only exit blocked off by an oncoming group of Talon agents--at least four, followed by the towering hulk of an omnic fighter. He sees Lúcio and Mei stop short at the end of the plaza, then turn back to face their attackers. Hanzo grabs for a scatter arrow and nocks it tight against the bowstring, then stops. 

“ _ Hanzo, if you can see them, take the shot!” _ Winston orders.

Hanzo grits his teeth. “I can see them,” he replies, “but they are too close. If I shoot, I could hit Mei or Lúcio.” He glances down to look for McCree, but the man is nowhere to be found. He hears the jingle of spurs and the thud of heavy footfalls on metal stairs, then McCree hauls himself over the edge of the roof by the fire escape. 

“ _ If you don’t, they’ll be overwhelmed as soon as Talon reaches them. _ ” Winston sounds both defeated and frantic. “ _ They’re good agents, but they can’t fight back like this. _ ”

Panting, McCree moves to Hanzo’s side and peers across the labyrinth of buildings. “It’s awful risky,” he says. “Winston, I don’t think either of us can--”

“ _ You have to do something! They’re both in danger! You’re the best sniper I’ve seen since Ana, you must be able to--” _

“And I cannot shoot one of them! I will not be responsible for their--”

“I have an idea,” McCree says suddenly. Hanzo glances over his shoulder, jaw clenched. He is desperate for any ideas now, before he is forced to watch the other agents murdered by his own incompetence. “Just--you gotta trust me, Hanzo. I don’t know if it’ll work but I think if you--”

“Yes,” Hanzo says between gritted teeth. “Just tell me!”

“Then keep aiming and don’t look away.” All at once, he is in Hanzo’s space. Hanzo can feel the solid breastplate and the contrasting softness of the  _ serape _ pressing against his back, the bulk of his quiver ignored. McCree’s prosthetic hand grips the wrist of his bow-hand; his right covers Hanzo’s where it pulls the arrow back tight, callused fingers sitting surprisingly delicate over his own.

“What the  _ hell _ are you--”

“Just trust me,” McCree repeats. His voice has dropped low, his lips grazing the shell of Hanzo’s ear as he cranes to see over his shoulder. The air abruptly turns heavy, charged with static, making the back of Hanzo’s neck prickle and his skin tingle. The Talon agents pour into the plaza, flanking the omnic, all of them with weapons raised.

McCree breathes, tightens his fingers over Hanzo’s on the arrow, and rumbles in a timber Hanzo didn’t know his voice could reach, “ _ It’s high noon.” _

Hanzo is no stranger to the Deadeye. He has only seen McCree use it twice before, and both times, he had landed perfect killing shots on multiple, moving targets in under a second. It was a terrifying yet awe-inspiring feat. “Line ‘em up and knock ‘em down” was how he described the ability to perfectly analyze, calibrate, and shoot down half a dozen targets in the space of a breath. Hanzo could never figure out how it worked and McCree had never been able to explain it in a way that was satisfying.

All at once, he understands. 

Whereas summoning the dragons is an explosive rush of power that heightens and overwhelms the senses, this is the opposite: utter peace and perfect clarity. Time has come to a complete standstill. Hanzo opens his eyes and can see with perfect clarity: four Talon agents, all poised with weapons ready to fire; Lúcio and Mei, their own blasters at the ready but unlikely to be fast enough. The buildings and streets fade into the background, the sounds of the city dissipating into white noise as he focuses on nothing but his targets. His body is a livewire, every muscle singing with energy, ready to perform. In his peripheral vision, he swears he sees a golden halo of light emanating from somewhere behind him. 

He knows, with sudden, utter confidence, the precise angle at which to fire his scatter arrow to strike down the humans. In the same movement, he can draw another arrow and destroy the omnic with a single blow. There is no guessing or uncertainty, nor any potential for his shot to fail. They will fall. 

He breathes, and McCree breathes with him, slow and deep and sure. 

“Line ‘em up,” McCree murmurs in his ear, “and  _ knock ‘em down. _ ”

Together, they release the arrow. It streaks ahead into the night, making a bare whistle of sound. He reaches for another arrow and his fingers bump McCree’s as they go, yet work in perfect synchronization as he notches, aims, and fires again.

Ahead, the scatter arrow shatters, individual projectiles splitting apart with brilliant streaks of blue. Four bodies slump to the ground, two clutching the arrows in chest and belly, the other two dead with arrows in their necks. The second arrow sinks into the omnic’s metallic head, and the bot falls with its comrades. He sees Lúcio and Mei jump back from the sudden onslaught, their heads whipping around for the source. 

Hanzo can  _ feel _ McCree grin. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he says.

Hanzo exhales. The static crackling in the air recedes, and the world slowly fades back into its regular hues. He is left standing in an awkward embrace, bow still extended out with McCree wrapped around him.  A small part of him wants to sink back against McCree’s chest and indulge--he immediately shoves that urge down and shrugs himself out of McCree’s hold. 

“That was--” he begins, but Winston cuts him off.

“ _ That was amazing!” _ the ape crows into the comm. “ _ How on earth did you manage that?” _

“Very carefully,” Hanzo replies, because he has no idea how else to explain the feat. He is a very good archer, but there are no words for what McCree has just helped him do. 

McCree is still grinning when Hanzo glances at him. “We’re good at what we do,” he adds, tipping his hat. 

“ _ Well, whatever that was, excellent work. Go meet with Mei and Lúcio and I’ll send the evac. _ ”

“Sounds like a plan, big guy.” 

Hanzo shoulders his bow, flexing as he does. His body feels too tight now, the world unclear enough for his liking. “So that is the Deadeye,” he says. 

“Sure is,” McCree replies. He already seems to have shaken off the Deadeye, standing casually with his hands in his pockets, as though a moment ago he didn’t just share an incredible ability with Hanzo. 

“I did not expect such a . . . feeling.” The statement is inadequate to describe it. “That is amazing. How did you ever learn such a thing?”

“Picked it up when I was younger. Been fine-tunin’ it since.” McCree shrugs. “Never tried it with someone else. I’d be willin’ to do it again with you, though.” He shoots Hanzo a wink before he turns around toward the fire escape. “Anyway, let’s get goin’. Gotta make sure our good work wasn’t in vain.”

Hanzo feels himself flush. “Ridiculous,” he mutters. He swings over the edge of the building and is on the ground before McCree, striding off in the direction of their comrades. Behind him, he hears McCree chuckling. 

He manages to pretend he isn’t intrigued by the idea for almost ten minutes. 


End file.
